


It's a Goddamn Arms Race

by Mogseltof



Series: Ratty Love Fest 2020 [4]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Colleagues - Freeform, Competitive scheduling, Ficlet, Gen, Silly, Workplace humour, friendships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:42:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24443773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mogseltof/pseuds/Mogseltof
Summary: It's Ratchet Week over on twitter. Have some fics.Day 4: Dance off/Working overtime.Look, when one member of staff goes down, someone has to step up and take on the work they were going to be doing. How else do you decide this kind of thing?
Series: Ratty Love Fest 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1765345
Kudos: 12





	It's a Goddamn Arms Race

“Not it,” says Velocity eventually, staring at the schedule in front of them. 

“Doesn’t count,” says First Aid, patting her shoulder. “You have to put your finger on your nose.”

“What?”

“Never mind him,” says Ratchet, reaching for the datapad. “No point in getting stupid about it, I’ll take this one and one of you can take the next.”

First Aid snatches it away, disapproval in his stare and field. “You took the last  _ three _ , Ratchet, we all should do our share evenly!”

“Ambulon’s hardly carrying his share here,” points out Velocity with a gesture towards Ambulon two berths away. 

“He’s unconscious,” says First Aid patiently, waving the data pad. “It’s not like he chose to be, he’ll just have to make it up to whichever of us takes this shift when he’s conscious again.”

“Yes, and he can make it up to me just fine,” says Ratchet testily, reaching for the datapad again. 

First Aid steps back out of reach, glare intensifying. “No, we’re going to decide this  _ fairly _ .”

“Right,” says Ratchet irritably, crossing his arms over his chest. “Fairly  _ how _ ?”

The music that’s been playing over the shipwide intercom all fragging shift seems to kick up a notch at his words, and First Aid practically beams, amusement eking into his field. 

8 minutes later, when Tailgate taps the door to medical to slide open, the music is even louder, and all three of them are dancing furiously, choking on laughter as their limbs swing and bump over the datapad with the schedule on it. 

“Don’t ask me,” says Mainframe from near the door. “They just started doing it.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was the prompt that made me wanna write anything for this week. I looked at it and went "yup, know what I'd write for that" and here we are.


End file.
